HetaOni- The Aftermath
by Raven-Shinigami
Summary: Because HetaOni. Also because headcanon about schizophrenic Italy and everybody else being messed up. But they're trying to get back to being their normal selves again. Human and country names. T for Romano's mouth. Because he swears. I mean, would it really be him without his swearing? Okay, so there will be feels (serious shit) and funny stuff (comic relief). This is my first fic
1. Chapter 1

**Alright, this is my first piece of fan fiction I've ever considered publishing. And since I'm not know by, like, anybody, I think there's going to be a long wait in between the posting of each new chapter after today. Not like anybody cares. Because I'm a nobody. And yet I still feel the need to post this. And so I will.**

**WARNING: There will be OOC Italy.**

**Disclaimer:**** I don't own Hetalia or HetaOni. If I did, well, things would be a whole lot different... and not in a very good way... Also, the icon for this story comes from here: **My HetaOni logo big and simple vers. by ~Uncle-Nemes1s on deviantART

**Well, that's it, I think.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Sighing, Italy shifted his legs. Life just hadn't been the same since the nations had suffered in Steve's mansion. In the end, they'd all made it out alive, but now everybody had mental-and some, physical-scars. Needless to say, there had been no wars recently, but that was simply because everyone was still feeling battered and in need of comfort. Nobody relished the idea of conflict so soon after the Incident of the Haunted Mansion.

Thinking about this just made him sad. Clutching his journal to his chest, Veneziano let a few tears leak from the corners of his eyes. Although everybody had suffered great losses, everyone had agreed that Arthur and Veneziano had had it the worst. Italy tended to agree, though his friends had had it rough too.

Standing, Veneziano headed for the door. He needed to walk, to run, to do anything to escape the dark cloud hanging over his head. Slowly, Italy opened the door. Ah, fresh air, blue sky. It made him sad, but not so sad as to completely cripple him. More of a… drained sort of feeling. After all, was it not on a day such as this that he, Kiku, Gilbert, and Ludwig decided to enter the mansion?

Italy strolled down the path, alternating his gaze from the path at his feet and the forest off to the left. In truth, the forest scared him. It reminded him of the mansion, of how it was so far from any town, in the wilderness. It was then that Veneziano heard something like footsteps from the woods. It was muted, but slowly becoming clearer.

NO! The word exploded in Italy's head. Italy began to run. Frantically, he sprinted down the path, but it was slowly fading away. Glancing behind himself, Veneziano glimpsed a sinister shadow following behind him. Panicked, he raced faster towards Germany's house. Maybe, maybe if he made it there, he'd be safe. Unless there were more Onis already there.

From behind him, Italy heard a voice, a terrible, terrible voice. "YoU...WOn't…Esc…aPe." Picking up his pace, Veneziano sped forwards, the path beneath his feet going in and out of focus. The Oni would _not_ catch him… Italy would make sure of it. He raced on.

* * *

Italy burst in through Germany's front door, panting heavily and sweating profusely. One look at the frightened country and Germany knew exactly what was going on. Veneziano's eyes were wide and frenzied, two frightened orbs betraying his condition.

"Doitsu! Doitsu! They're coming, we have to hide!" The moment was a bittersweet reminder of better, happier times. But Ludwig knew that the danger was not real. At least, not the way it used to be. This danger lived only in Veniziano's mind. Italy was locking the door when Germany roused himself from his musings of times long past.

"Italy?" Germany asked tentatively. Sometimes when he had these episodes, Veneziano became so immersed in the hallucinations or flashbacks that he couldn't see or hear anybody or anything real. Then again, in Italy's mind, those hallucinations were very much real. Germany needed to know how far gone Italy was this time. Even though Veneziano had seen and spoken to Ludwig, there was still the possibility of the hallucinations or flashback-like scenes becoming stronger, or that Italy had been talking to a hallucination.

"Italy, who's coming?" Germany tried again. Slowly, Italy turned around and, trembling, his voice barely louder than a breath of air, replied: "The Onis, Germany. They're here." Despite knowing that this was a fabrication created by Italy's mind, those words still sent a shiver down his spine. In addition to this, Germany felt a sharp tug at his heartstrings. Seeing Italy like this made him feel deeply saddened and depressed. Neither he nor the other countries could figure out how to cure Veneziano's condition, not even Britain. The best Germany felt he could do for his friend was comforting Italy after the episode or to go along with it during the hallucinations. Otherwise, Germany feared, Italy would end up feeling trapped and alone, with nobody believing him when he tells them what he sees. it would probably remind Veneziano of the second time they entered the mansion, of how he'd warned them not to enter, bunt they hadn't believed him. That would surely push Italy over the edge, and Ludwig certainly did _not_ want that to happen.

Veneziano began to swiftly lead Germany into a neighboring room. Ludwig let him. However, it was apparent that he wasn't moving fast enough when Italy whispered frantically, "Doitsu, hurry! We'll be safe upstairs, he promised!" Germany froze. Who was Italy talking about? Who had told Italy it would be safe? "Doitsu! Hurry up!"

A look of suspicion spread across Germany's face. "Italy? Who told you this?"

Tugging at Ludwig's sleeve and casting frightened glances behind them, Veneziano replied, "No, we don't have time! I'll tell you when we're safe! Hurry, hurry!"

Germany turned and faced Italy, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Italy!" he said, shaking Veneziano gently but firmly. "Italy, snap out of it! You have to learn how to take care of these episodes when others aren't around to help! Italy, are you listening?" Slowly, Germany became aware of Veneziano relaxing. Only a little, but relaxing nonetheless.

Not a moment after the fear had left the countries' wide eyes did Italy have his arms around Germany, sobbing silently into the taller nation's shoulder. Taken by surprise, Germany awkwardly returned the embrace.

"Germany, I think…I think it's getting worse. Before, it wasn't quite as real, but now…Now, I hear voices telling me what to do. Angry voices. Scared voices. Sad voices. I don't…I don't know what to do. We might have escaped, but…we're not out of the woods yet. Not for real. Doitsu, life has gotten so much harder since the Mansion Incident. So, so much…"

"I know," replied the blond man, patting the brunette's back.

And, unseen by the sobbing nation, a single tear rolled down the stoic one's cheek. "I know."

* * *

**So, how did you like it?**

**For those perceptive people out there, yes, Italy has schizophrenia. And yes, that was a little bit of GerIta feels at the end of it but not really because this isn't supposed to be focusing on ships-it's suppose to be about the aftermath of HetaOni on the nations. Thus the title.**

**There will be more. Next is America and Britain. After that is Canada and France. Then after that, well, I'll just see what happens.**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, here's chapter 2. The next chapter will be chapter 2.5 simply because the chapter was getting too long. So America's third person PoV will be continued in the next chapter.**

**WARNING: OOC America and England. Not too much England, but America is super OOC. Because Steve will do that to people.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia nor HetaOni, so please don't sue me! Besides, I don't have anything anybody would want except for some fan fiction!**

* * *

"Hey, Britain! The tea's ready!"

Aruthur smiled. America had really become much more considerate since…his smile faltered and he habitually fingered his blindfold. No, he mustn't allow such thoughts to enter his mind, Alfred was just being kinder and more giving than usual. That was all. It certainly had no relation whatsoever to a certain mansion…

Realizing he'd not hold off the horrible memories for long, Arthur sighed. "Alright, America. Please bring it in," he called to his friend. Well, that had warded off the unwanted scenes for a few moments. Regrettably, though, not for very long.

After several moments, England heard America enter the room and sit down across from him. There came the sound of a cup being set in its saucer and getting gently passed across the table by means of sliding it. A brief silence ensued during which Arthur was forces to mentally relive some very painful experiences…

Finally, America broke the silence. "Hey, Arthur. You remember the time you told me, 'It's lonely outside,' what did you mean? Sorry if the question bothers you, I was just thinking-"

"Oh no," Britain made a shooing gesture with his right hand. "It's no trouble. What I meant to say was, well, when lost my sight, it was as though a door was shut in my face. Due to lack of new visual input, my mind plays again and again its most recent memories of sight as though to compensate for the loss of it. Almost like when you're up at night, scared, but when you close your eyes, your brain fabricates the images of a monster and you end up simply staring at the ceiling. It's sort of like that. Except I can never open my eyes again."

"Wow, England…I'm so sorry, dude. It's my fault. If there's anything I can do for you, anything at all, just let me know."

Again, his comment was waved off. "No, America. It's most certainly _not_ your fault. After all, you _did_ warn me, and it was my _own_ poor judgment that caused this. Besides, you help me more than enough as it is. Ha, it's like a role-reversal where _you're_ the older brother. I'm just a dead weight."

"No way, man. Don't talk like that. You're very important to us. And I need to help you out after I screwed things up. I was supposed to protect you, but instead you ended up getting hurt."

"Ah, yes. Speaking of which, do you know whether Francis and Matthew will be joining us for tea?"

A few seconds of silence ensued before America spoke again. "I asked them, but I think they're having their own bonding time over at Canada's place. You know, it's funny how familial connections suddenly became so much more important after…Well, you know what. The Incident. Like, we're always hanging out together, and Canada and France have reestablished their big-bro, little-bro relationship, and then Spain and Romano are pretty tight…The same even holds true for Japan. He and China are, like, actually bros again. Same with Russia and his sisters. Ironic, isn't it? That in order for us to come together, we must first be torn apart."

"Well, you know what _I_ find truly amazing, Alfred?"

"What?"

"The fact that now you and Italy can read the atmosphere and how…well…mature you've gotten. I _know_ that without the Incident, we would never have any conversation as deep and meaningful as this. The Mansion has…changed us all, I suppose. Will it last? Who knows? At least we've all gotten much less childish since then. Hopefully we'll remember the lessons we learned there, in the Mansion. I…truly hope that this state of world peace will last, but…"

"But what, England?"

"But I fear that it is not possible. Once a tragedy has passed far enough into the long-gone texts, we begin to forget the raw pain of the past. As a direct result of this, we are doomed to forever repeat history until the end of humanity."

"Woah, dude. Stop it; you're scaring me. Like, a lot. Gosh, this is just too much depressing talk for me. But I guess if this is really what you want to talk about, I will participate."

"I hardly want to _force_ you to do anything, Alfred. If you don't want to talk about this, I respect that, and we can stop talking about it."

America, who had been growing increasingly tense as the conversation wore on, relaxed. England could tell this by the slow exhalation and the almost imperceptible creak of the chair, which showed him that his friend was sitting back into the chair. Ah, his hearing sure had improved since the accident. Or rather, he had come to rely on his sense of hearing more since the loss of his sight. The two of them sat there together for some time, quietly sipping their tea and enjoying the other's company. It was nice to know that they were not alone in the world. Never again.

* * *

The day dawned brightly, but with a slight chill to the air. America woke and stretched out. He was glad to know that Arthur was safely tucked away in the room next door. After all, it had been noticeably harder for him to go about his everyday life without his sight. And, although Alfred knew that England would be able to adapt, until then, he had to make life as easy as possible for his friend. America had resolved to make the transition from a normal life with sight to a relatively normal life without as easy as possible for England.

Despite Britain not being able to see, Alfred had also decided that he would not allow the Incident to rob his bro of the many beautiful things the world had to offer. It was autumn at his place, and it was the perfect time to go on a walk. Other than the brightly colored leaves, which England wouldn't be able to take note of anyways, there would be a cool, crisp breeze, as well as the scents that accompanied the season. Sure, spring and summer were nice, but fall was just…cozier somehow. Like all the animals were tucking themselves into their burrows and curling up for the long winter to come. The cold outside was kept at bay with the heat of fires, whose smoke could be detected on the breeze in slight bursts, making you stop and wonder if somebody was having hot apple cider, and doing something season like carving pumpkins.

For a moment, he just lay in his bed, contemplating the many changes that he had undergone during the Mansion Incident. He realized that now, he was more able to notice the smaller details of life, and that each day was magical. Yes, life was a blessing. It was as fragile as glass, and beautiful as a diamond. Indeed, things had changed. But some things never would. Like the bond he and England shared. That would never change, he was sure of it. Somehow, the Incident had made things much more…permanent. Relationships between the nations would be built to last now.

But he did not have much time to simply dwell on this. And so, he slowly got up, made his bed, and began to prepare for the day. First, he took a shower and then brushed his teeth. America then proceeded to wake up Arthur, only telling him that they were going somewhere special soon, and that he'd better get up. Fortunately, Britain was fairly used to his house, having spent the last fortnight there, and so Alfred was confident that his friend would be able to prepare for the day with no problems.

America began heating up some apple cider with the Crockpot, on low, so that when they returned from their walk, the cider would be ready to drink. Then, he began to attend to the need of breakfast. But what to make? In the end, Alfred decided to make pancakes and bacon, with maple syrup, since it just seemed like an autumn dish. He couldn't help but think, "Wow, Matty would be proud." It made him happy to think that Canada was at home and safe, with France to help him cope with all the mind-screwing from the Mansion.

_No, don't think about that,_ he told himself. _Just make breakfast._ Britain came down just as America was serving the food onto the plates. The timing was so impeccable, but Alfred wondered why he even bothered to notice. _Perhaps it's just this once,_ he thought. Then again, he _had_ been taking everything more…seriously, lately. He sighed quietly, then immediately wished he hadn't. Arthur would hear and then start worrying about him needlessly. His point was proven not a moment after the thought had formed.

"America, is something bothering you?" asked England, who had seated himself at the table and had begun to eat. Alfred sat down opposite him and took a moment to think. Was something? Well, sure. Lots of things were bothering him. First of all, England was blind, and it was his fault. On top of that, he couldn't fix it. In addition to the rest of the stress from Steve's Mansion, there were still his normal duties to attend to. He felt as though he'd bitten off just a little more than he could chew. But was any of this worth bringing up to England? Probably not. After all, they'd already had numerous discussions on the topic. Giving in to his desire to glean more comfort from such conversations would just be selfish.

"No, not really. I've just been thinking, you know? We're all so busy these days, trying regain our sense of selves…But it's sort of an individual journey we've all got to take, right? So, nothing really important, I guess. I mean, nothing you or Russia or Japan isn't going through right now too."

"Yes, I see what you mean. It _has_ gotten quite lonely since we've all started retreating into ourselves. I suppose that's only natural, though. We're all going through the stages of grieving and loss, just at an exceptionally large level. So, yes, I suppose it's only natural. By the by, what is this mysterious 'special' place you mentioned earlier this morning?"

"You'll know when we get there. For now, just eat your breakfast so we can get there faster, 'kay, dude?"

"Well…I suppose you _are_ in charge of this."

Alfred watched Arthur eat. He seemed to be deep in thought, although one could never really tell without seeing the look in someone's eyes. Which, in this case, had a blindfold over them. Dammit, this train of thought was making him sad. That wasn't the point of the day! The point was to cheer them both up and give each of them a sense of calmness or contentedness for the first time since leaving the messed up Mansion behind. But that was in the past, and it was painful. Best to focus on the future for the time being. Hopefully, this would be therapeutic for them both, and could give them renewed vigor to continue on.

As soon as Arthur had finished his meal, America quickly cleaned up the plates and got England his scarf and jacket. It wasn't overly cold at this time of year, but it _did_ require at least a light jacket.

"So, dude. You ready to go on a walk?"

"Of course, I am America. Just who do you think I am that you think I can't handle that?"

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	3. Chapter 2 and a Half

**Chapter 2.5! **

**...I suck. Meh.**

**Disclaimer:**** I still don't own Hetalia or HetaOni. Because if I did, you would know.**

* * *

_"So, dude. You ready to go on a walk?"_

_"Of course, I am America. Just who do you think I am that you think I can't handle that?"_

The two countries headed outside, England with his walking stick and America with his hand resting lightly on his friend's arm, should he happen to trip. The cool air stung slightly at first, but soon became a more pleasant feeling. They walked in silence for a while, giving Alfred unwanted time to reflect on his life, his personality…everything, really. Whereas before, this silence would have been unbearable, and thus he would have saturated the air with pointless noise, this type of amicable silence had become the norm. In fact, this silence almost seemed to sustain many of the nations. In a weird way, this silence was like a prescription drug. Get a certain amount of hours of silence a day, and you'd feel better. Too much or too little was just depressing.

America also reflected on how _pointless_ he'd been before. He'd blurt out what he'd thought, without any consideration of other's feelings. And now, well, he'd been forced to "grow up" in a way in a very short amount of time. Thinking back on previous conversations the countries had had with each other, Alfred realized just how lackadaisical they had been, with no real meaning or substance. They were like fruit flies, buzzing around quickly and recklessly and fading away just as fast. Now, though-_now_-the countries only spoke only out of necessity, whether for the the need to create alliances or for therapeutic reasons. At any rate, the quality of their conversations had gone up, whilst the amount of conversations actually held had dropped dramatically. It was a fair trade, really.

It was at this moment that Britain broke the silence. "So, Alfred…has Tony come back yet? Has he called?" Taken by surprise, America's steps faltered. Ironically, England helped him keep his balance. Talk about the blind leading the blind. The two were just blind in different ways.

"W-well no, but I'm _sure_ he'll call soon. Or come back. I mean, he _can't_ be dead, can he?" They both knew the answer to the question, so they both knew how pointless it was. Wishing or asking or begging wouldn't change anything. And, yeah, it's sometimes just better to move on. In some cases, dwelling on the past only hindered your recovery. And so America would not let it win. He would not give Steven-that _bastard_-the satisfaction that his influence had had a lasting negative impact on the world. No, he would not allow it to win. And so that is how he had determined that the best way to do this would be to live a full, fulfilling life in a world stronger for the hardships they had endured. That was his ultimate goal in life now. Funny how things got thrown into perspective when tragedy struck, like a switch had been flicked on. Or off.

"Hey, America, wasn't it rather surprising when we found out that Tony and Steve were related?"

"Ha, yeah, it was. It's just…Tony's so nice, and Steve's so evil, and…it just didn't make all that much sense except that they _mildly_ resemble one another. But Tony looks so much smaller and younger than Steve."

"So, Alfred. Do you think Tony's doing alright?"

"You mean after he cut a deal with his psychopathic relative? I hope so, but one never knows, does he? It's best to fear the worst and then be happily surprised when the opposite is true. Otherwise, you're just setting yourself up for disappointment."

"I quite agree with you."

Another, briefer silence ensued, during which both mulled over the possibilities of Tony making it back to them.

"Anyways, Tony is, or was, my bro, and I'm glad I got to know him. He's funny and smart, and I don't know, I just didn't have friends. It was nice to have and unconditional friend, unlike what we countries normally do. Friendship for profit. Love for profit. I'm sick and tired of it all, Britain. I want something more, something better. I want a life. A _real_ life, not just running around in circles with the other nations. Believe me, we've all been trapped in delusions for I don't know how long. More money, more jobs, better economy, money, money, money, resources, resources, resources. It's all pointless. When it comes down to it, the quality of your life lies in what friends you had, what bonds you forged, and what you were like as a person. I plan to begin my journey now. My journey towards a good life. A meaningful one. And I'll definitely need you by my side when I embark on this journey. What do you say? Will you be there?"

"Oh, America. You know the answer to that. You're my best friend, and I will never let you down. I'll be with you, Alfred. I'll be with you always."

"And I will never leave you behind. I'll lift you up so you can feel the sun on your face, the wind above the trees, and so that you will always reach the highest mountain peak."

"Since when did you become a poet, Alfred?"

"Since just now." The two chuckled quietly as the strolled through a path in an apple orchard, the branches reaching upwards as though to brush the heavens. The blue of the sky was somewhat lonely, but Alfred had Arthur, so that was not to be a problem.

After walking for some time in complete silence, America told Britain that this was the place-his special place.

"What does it look like?" inquired Arthur, who was wondering whether the only special thing about this place was what it looked like.

"It looks like a lot of grass," America replied, his tone almost regretful.

"And what, exactly, does this grass look like?"

"Special. This scene, if I tell you where we are, will already be in your mind. You won't be left out in the cold. I won't allow it." The last bit was said teasingly, but they both knew what Alfred was referencing.

Together they sat peacefully in the chilly fall air, with their faces pointed upwards, as though to catch a precious drop of sunlight that could, at any moment, fall from the sun. After some time, the silence was once again cracked. "America, where exactly are we?"

At this, Alfred smiled. It was one of his first true smiles since the Incident. "You should be quite familiar with it, actually. It's the perfect place for us. So, where do you think we are?"

Several moments passed before Britain finally spoke again. "So, just how special is this place, America? Come one, I want to know."

Alfred leaned back some more for a better view of the clouds and whispered, in an almost wistful way, "It's as special as you can get. You give up yet?"

An amused smirk grew on England's face. "Well, Alfred. I've figured your mystery place out. But I don't want to guess. I want you to tell me. After all, failed guesses only detract from the magic of the moment."

America laughed. "Well, I suppose so," he replied. "But then how will I know if you're telling the truth?"

"Don't you trust me, Alfred?" England asked with mock indignation.

"Of course I do, dude. Trust me. I was just messing with ya."

"So, where are we?"

At this point, the joking atmosphere that had begun to develop dissipated, only to be replaced with a more solemn sort of feel. Alfred stared upwards for a long while before replying. "It's the field, Britain. It's the field where you found me, and promised to be my older brother, my guardian, my friend, my world. It's the place where we first met."

* * *

**Are you feeling the feels yet? Because I sure am.**

**And wow, America. You got so serious...**

**Steve will do that to people. Don't let him get to you.**

**Now! Onto the next chapter! The next chapter will star Canada and France, and the one after that is Romano and Spain's turn to get the spotlight.**


	4. Chapter 3

**Wow, here's the next chapter (already). Although that makes sense, since I'm obsessing over writing this and doing this instead of my homework. So please enjoy it, knowing that sacrifices were made to get shit done!**

**I don't know how many times I'm gonna hafta say this, but I don't own Hetalia or HetaOni. Believe me, I wish I did, but I don't have enough to pay for the copyrights. That, and they probably wouldn't sell such a popular show to me anyways. Because I suck.**

* * *

Canada looked out at the beautiful landscape, quietly eating his pancakes. Kumajirou sat in his lap, and, as usual, was not saying very much. The sunset threw soft reds and oranges onto the mountain in the near distance. Matthew decided that this mountain and this sunset put together were especially majestic. Then again, big brother France was coming over for a visit soon, so he was already in an exceptionally good mood.

"Ah, I wonder how the others are doing," he said, addressing Kumajirou. "I mean, we know how America, England, and France are, but we don't really talk to the other nations very much. You'd think we would, you know? Talk to each other, I mean. After what we've been through? But I guess this is just how we chose to cope. Instead of everybody coming together, we broke off into little groups. Well, at least we have each other, right Kumajirou?"

But Kumajirou simply looked up and said, "Who are you?" Canada sighed. Such a sad echo of the past, when nobody had known he even existed. Now, the other countries knew him. And yet, his own bear didn't! Even _he_ could now remember his bear's name.

"I'm Canada!"

But the bear was no longer paying attention to Matthew, for Francis had just arrived.

"Bonjour, mon petite frere! How have you been?"

"Oh, hi France! I'm doing okay, I guess. We're all getting on the best we can," Canada replied, a wide Italy-like smile on his face. Although, Matthew supposed, perhaps it was not all that accurate to describe it that way anymore. Now, he mused, the correct way to say that would be to describe it as an un-Italy-like smile.

"Yes, we are, aren't we? It is sad how we've all changed, is it not? And, for us countries, the time it took to transform us this drastically was not much longer than the blink of any eye. How times and people do change."

"I know what you mean," Canada replied sadly, the breeze stirring his hair slightly. He gestured for France to sit next to him, then turned his head to face the mountain once again. "I wonder how everybody else is handling the shock; there's not much communication between us nations anymore, except within personal groups. I only know of a few, actually. There's us (you, me, America, and England-people call us the 'New Continent Family' though IDK why), the Axis (I'm not really sure why they kept that name), the completely-unaffected-by-the-Incident Nordics, and Austra, Prussia, and Hungary." Canada sighed again, shaking his head. "I only wish that things could be normal again, whatever that is. But I fear this may be the new normal."

How depressing," France agreed. "But let us not speak of such dark things at the moment. The time for that will come. For now, let us simply be in one another's presence, and let that be enough."

And, for a time, it was.

* * *

France sat at his desk, a pen in hand and a calendar on the flat wooden surface. Scanning the month quickly, Francis marked down several special events and some personal notes. Almost completely satisfied, he flipped through the calendar one more just to make sure he had everything correctly written down.

Birthday, birthday, birthday, reunion party, birthday… the list went on and on. Since the Incident, France had begun to take more of an interest in the other nations. For example, their birthdays and other special events. The reason for this was simple: the more excuses there were to celebrate, the better. That, and he had become genuinely curious about his fellow countries.

Of course, the thought of birthday quickly led to their actual birthday, and life, which naturally lent itself towards the thought of death. If he really thought about it, France knew that countries could, under the right circumstances, be just as easy to kill as a normal person. Just not _by_ normal people. Such thoughts never ceased to disturb him.

Despite all of the horrible events that had taken place in the Mansion, Francis was fairly certain that the nations might well possibly go back to their old selves. But things like that just needed _time_… and a cure for Italy's schizophrenia.

Francis also knew that everyone was in varying states of depression and loss, and he was sure that they probably had deep discussions such as the ones he and Canada often had. So, did that… make him just like them-sad, depressed, and in need of getting his old personality back?! No, he refused to be as _mediocre_ as that lot.

At that moment, Pierre flew in through the open window, a letter clamped tightly in his beak. France held out a bird treat in the palm of his hand. Pierre flew over, landed on the upturned palm, and dropped the message to retrieve the tasty morsel. Using a letter opener, France slit open the envelope and pulled the paper containing the message from it.

_Dear Francis Bonnefoy,_

_I am sure these past months have been as trying for you as they_

_have been for everyone else. This is why a get-together for the nations _

_who suffered through the Incident has been set for Saturday the 24th_

_at 2:00 PM. It will be hosted at my place, since that is what has been_

_agreed upon by numerous attendees. Please be there, we all have things_

_we need to discuss as a group._

_Be prompt. Late arrivals will not get cake._

_Sincerely,_

_Ludwig Beilschmidt_

Immediately after reading the letter, France turned to the current month in his calendar and marked the date, time, and place of the party. And, he admitted to himself, he was glad to have written proof that Germany was still himself. That made him hopeful of a full international recovery. Well, of their personalities, at least. That lat bit was especially Germany-like: Be prompt. Late arrivals will not get cake. Oh, it was just like uptight Ludwig to say something like that. Although he was sure that the cake itself had been somebody else's idea.

Another thing was that, even though it was called a "get-together" in the invitation, Francis thought that, with cake (and hopefully other refreshments), it would be a_ party_. Because god only knew how much they all needed cheering up. This party would also provide an opportunity for laughs and smiles, two things that had been in short supply of in the past months.

Yes, this party was a very good idea. Francis just needed to be patient for the two weeks it would take for the day to finally arrive.

* * *

**Dammit, I'm so sorry for the OOC-ness. It just made sense for this sort of situation.**

**Also, I think we all know where the ****_calendar _****reference comes from *wink wink***

**Anyways, this is probably the worst chapter yet, but I like how Germany's letter came out. So, um yeah. I'll get to posting the next chapter now (what would my teachers think? Not doing my homework to do fan fiction... They'd kill me. After all, I'm an A-plus student, so they'd be very disappointed that I don't do my homework as soon as I got home. Yeah, they'd probably kill me O_o).**


	5. Chapter 4

**Well, this is going to be interesting. Spain and Romano, actually in character? No. Friggin. Way. I didn't know Rae-Rae (me) could write like this (because I can't write this well, this must be some sort of fluke or something).**

**Hot damn, these two actually get to keep their own freaking personalities! Congratulations, you two. You're special.**

**But no matter how in-character they are, they will never be mine. Why, cruel world? WHY?!**

**Although I think this is ****_so much _****better than the last chapter. It sucked. Like, a lot (the previous chapter...I hate it).**

**Anyways, bask in the adorable Romano and Spain interactions! :D**

* * *

"TOMATO BASTARD! GET BACK HERE!" Romano chased after Spain, swearing and threatening with all sorts of creative tortures. Spain just ran, hoping against all hope that the angry Italian would not catch up to him. How had he repeated his past mistake, he didn't know. He knew only that it had happened, and that now he was in big trouble.

"Lovi, I'm sorry!" cried Antonio in a desperate bid for forgiveness.

"Bastard! 'Sorry' doesn't mean anything this time! And don't call me Lovi! It's 'Lovino Varags' to you, motherfucker!"

Romano was gaining ground, Spain could feel it. Dammit! If Lovi caught up to him, he was dead meat! Unfortunately, that looked to be the only possible outcome of the current situation. Lovi was catching up fast, and Antonio couldn't keep up this pace much longer. Now, Romano? He could keep this up all _day_ if he really wanted to. Spain decided to try for forgiveness again.

"Roma, I'm sorry I pulled your curl! It was a mistake, I swear, just please don't kill me!"

"Humph. Idiota, that is no excuse! You knew what happens if you pull my curl, but you still did it, you fool! Promise to never pull my curl again and I might-just _might_-let you go this once."

Spain knew he was bluffing. Lovi would let him off the hook no matter what, because that's just how much he cared (about Spain). But it was always best to just go along. Otherwise, Romano could change his mind.

"Alright, Lovino, you win! I promise, okay? Just, please stop chasing me; I have this stitch in my side and a cramp from all this running."

Needless to say, conducting a conversation with somebody in hot pursuit of him had been no small feat, so Antonio was relieved-and just a little surprised-when Lovi abruptly stopped running after him and instead flopped down on the ground.

"I'll stop chasing you, dammit, but you have to carry me back now; I'm too tired to walk all that way."

Of course, Spain knew that Lovino wasn't actually all that tired (that freakishly fast pace was just not that of a tired person). However, he was just barely back in Romano's good graces again, and did not want to jeopardize his position his position by refusing to carry him back home.

Walking to where Romano was, Antonio carefully scooped up the obstinately limp country and began staggering home.

"Watch it, bastard! If you drop me, I'll chase you all over again!" This made Spain smile. The whole situation reminded him of when Romano was much younger, living with him and basically presiding over the place. Lovi had been such a squeezable little kid. In fact, he still _was_ very squeezable and huggable, though he severely doubted Romano would like that very much. Chances were Spain would end up getting head butted, and that _really _hurt!

"Hey, hey you! Yeah, you, tomato bastard! What are you so happy about? Wipe that ridiculous grin off your face of I'll wipe it off for you!" Absentmindedly, Spain patted Romano on the top of his head, still smiling.

"BASTARD! What did I just tell you?" Oops. Now he'd gone and gotten Lovi all mad again. He dropped that smile fast.

"Much better. Can't have tomato bastards like you ruining my perfect day by being to goddamned _happy_. Now, hurry up; I want to get home."

Antonio had to fight back a smile. His Lovi was just too adorable for words! Ah, but he was sure Lovi would kill him if he knew what Spain was thinking. And so, he kept his thoughts to himself as he lugged Romano back to the house.

* * *

Several days later, Romano was sitting out in the tomato plants, munching a on a red fruit (tomatoes are fruits, right? idk). All of a sudden, a cat leaped out at him and attacked the cuff of his sleeve.

Romano flipped out, swearing and screaming and generally making a big fool of himself. That is, until he realized it was just Pookie.

"Stupid cat! You made me freak out! Now I'm gonna need to get Antonio to bring you home to Feli!"

"Mrrow," came Pookie's only reply. They furry gray cat then proceeded to purr and try to curl up in Lovino's lap. However, Romano would have none of that.

"Get away, you dumb cat. I don't understand why Feli likes you so much, you useless little…" This verbal abuse of the uncomprehending kitty continued on for some time. Eventually, however, Lovino realized that there was a letter attached to Pookie's brand-new collar.

"Hm? What's this, you dumb cat? Why didn't you give this to me straightaway?!" But, of course, Pookie's only reply this time was to rub her cheek against several large tomato plants. Grumbling to himself, Romano reached over and seized the cat, who quickly started to purr. Getting to the point of being seriously irked, Romano took hold of the letter and tore it open. Pookie, no matter incompetently, had delivered it, so it was probably from Veneziano, right?

As soon as Lovino's eyes caught sight of the signature at the bottom of the note, he flew into an adorable rage such as those of his childhood. Although he really hadn't grown out of his temper, so that really didn't mean anything.

"DAMN POTATO BASTARD!" he yelled, tearing the letter in half. Despite Ludwig being Veneziano's anchor to reality, Romano had been unable to grow out of his childish hatred of the man. Because no matter how much trauma he went through, some things just couldn't change. For example, how he was basically the boss of Antonio. That had not and would not change. After all, he needed _somebody_ to do all of the backbreaking labor for him, didn't he? Of course he did.

And so Lovino proceeded to completely tear up the paper and then burn it with a magnifying glass. Once this was accomplished, Romano scooped up the ashes of the letter and flushed it down the toilet. Thus he destroyed the invitation to the get-together of the nations without even knowing its significance.

Several hours later, Romano was sitting back in his plushy chair, reading a book (it's contents are a secret, teehee hee). Spain suddenly burst into the room, asking something about a stupid letter from _that potato bastard!_

"Spain, go away. I'm trying to read here. I don't give a shit about a letter. Does it look like I care? No? Good, because if you don't get your ass out of here in the next five second, I swear…"

"No, Lovi! You don't get it! There's going to be this big get-together for all of the nations from…you know… The Incident."

There was an awkward silence.

"Alright, bastard, I get it. Now leave. I'm trying to work."

"Really, Lovi? Are you trying to work, or are you just…" Spain crossed the room and, before Romano had time to react, snatched the book from his hands.

"_…looking at porn?_" he finished his sentence.

Romano turned tomato red, and Spain, taking the cue, left in a hurry.

"That's right, bastard! Run away with your tail in between your legs! And it wasn't porn, it was just something else!"

But, of course, he was lying.

* * *

**Well, that was... unexpected. I literally didn't know Romano read porno until I typed it up. But, you know what, I don't think it's just ****_any_**** sort of "pornography." No, it's... DOUJINSHI! F-yeah!**

**Because everybody should get to read yaoi at least once in their lifetime.**

**I'm sorry, I'll go die in a hole now *sobs and drags self to Crona's emo corner of shame***


	6. Chapter 5

**Hey, guys, I'm back. Yes, I know I've been kind of dead (only, like, five days though, haha) but here is the next chapter. I hope it's not too long. But you can sort of see why it took me so long to finally get around to this, no? The length is kind of... long. Ish. Kind of. Maybe.**

**Please tell me if I need to split this chapter up into two separate ones. Because I will if I have to.**

**I'm sick of saying that HetaOni and Hetalia don't belong to me. So this is the last time I'm going to repeat it. Say it with me, now: Hetalia... doesn't... belong... to... fanfiction... writers.**

**Okay? Okay. Moving on.**

**I have several ideas for more fics, and I may start posting them soon. I also may need feedback to make them better, add details, information, suggestions for who to include, etc. So just bear with me, please.**

* * *

Hungary peered in through the crack between the door and the frame. She had been about to check up on her emails, but when she had gone to her room, she had discovered Gilbird using her laptop. Now, she was spying on him from the doorway, waiting for him to get off her computer. Elizaveta didn't exactly mind Gilbird borrowing her computer without her permission; she only needed him to get off quickly.

But 30 minutes went by, then 45, and Gilbird _still_ had not gotten off of her laptop. Hungary quietly slipped a good distance from her room, she began to run around, searching for Prussia. Passing Roderich in the halls, she muttered a quick "Good morning, Mr. Austria," before hurrying on.

Elizaveta was really happy that Gilbert had moved into Mr. Austria's house. That way, she could always find him to hang out with. Or, in this case, tell on his bird. At any rate, things at West' house had been too serious and depressing for Prussia's tastes, so now Austria just had to put up with the ever-present noise that came with Gilbert's presence.

In the end, Hungary needed only follow the sound of Prussia's loud music. She found him in his own room, on the computer, blasting music from his speakers. The door opened smoothly, and the sound hit her like a speeding train. For a moment, Hungary stood paralyzed by the sheer decibels being emitted from Gilbert's speakers. However, after several moments, she recovered the powers of movement. Hungary flicked off the switch controlling the outlet that the giant speakers were plugged in to, silencing the noise. Now, the only sound in the room came from Prussia's computer, which was considerably less noise than that of the speakers.

"What the hell, Hungary?! I was listening to that!" Of course, despite his angry expression, Prussia was not all that intimidating. Perhaps that stemmed from the fact that they were good friends, or perhaps from the knowledge that she always had her frying pan on her.

"Well, first of all, Mr. Austria would be terribly mad if he heard the type-and volume-of music you listen to. Also, I wanted to tell you something."

"Well, first of all to _you_, Elizaveta, I don't care what 'Mr. Austria thinks.' Secondly, I need you to spit out whatever garbage you came to tell me." Despite his stand-offishness, Hungary knew that he didn't actually think that what she had to say was garbage. He was just mad at her for turning off his tunes.

"Well, I was going to check my email and I found Gilbird on my com[uter. He's been on it for, like, the past hour now."

"So what? You want me to kick him off? He is my awesome bird, it can't be too bad. Unless he's doing something he's not allowed to do, though I don't know what he's not permitted to do except… hack… my…. accounts." As he got to the end of that last sentence, Prussia's expression had become increasingly worried-looking. Anxious, even. At that last word, he leapt from his seat and tore out of the room, heading for Hungary's bedroom (which is where she had her laptop).

Elizaveta followed Prussia's example, sprinting down the halls (as best she could in a dress), and practically flying into her room. What she and Prussia were faced with was a terrible, terrible sight: Gilbird was looking at _fan art._ And not just any fan art, either. He was browsing through-ehem hem hem-_stuff._

The two stood there awkwardly for a long moment while Gilbird clicked around on Hungary's laptop. Since he had his headphones on, he was still unaware of the two nations that had practically blown down the bedroom door during their entrance into the room. It was Prussia who spoke first.

"Gilbird! What is the meaning of this?!" Gilbird froze. "Well?! Why are you looking at this, this… this?!" Prussia strode across the room and grabbed the small yellow bird, yanking the headphones off of him. "Gilbird, are you deaf? Answer me! The awesome Prussia will not be ignored by his own bird!" Aforementioned bird cheeped quietly.

"What's he saying, Prussia?" Hungary asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "What'd he say?"

"Well… he says that… he doesn't need to explain himself to us… and if we really want to know… we have to… check… the… computer." Prussia and Hungary glanced at each other, twin masks of horror on their faces.

"Well, I for one am _not_ looking through all that, that stuff," Elizaveta said, making a dismissive gesture with her right hand. To which Prussia replied: "I will not, either. You did not need to tell me that you would not; I already guessed that much. People as awesome as us don't look at things like _that._"

But, in the end, they went through Gilbird's internet windows anyways.

"Eh?! He's a big-name fan?"

"Elizaveta, look at this: he's calling himself Yellow-Messenger-Bird. What an obvious username!" And thus they browsed Gilbird's fan accounts and both had a good laugh.

This was all despite the act that Gilbird was a big-name fan of none other than the countries. Prussia and Hungary learned a lot about Gilbird from this. For example, he shipped PrussiaXmale!Hungary, GerIta, and USUK.

"That is _messed up,_" laughed Hungary, upon seeing one of Gilbird's (very well drawn) USUK drawings. Of course, when they came upon PrussiaXmale!Hungary, fan art pieces, the two of them gave each other awkward glances and moved on. Same story with his fan fiction. Great writing style, awkward content. But they found everything else extremely funny.

In fact, it was several hours of browsing Gilbird's various accounts like Pixiv, deviantART, , Fanpop, Tumblr, and Twitter before either of them realized that the bird in question had disappeared.

* * *

Later, Prussia and Hungary were seated on a couch, discussing Gilbird's big-name status.

"He really gets around, doesn't he?" Elizaveta said in a way that asked not for an answer, but for an agreement. "Pixiv, Tumblr, deviantART… he's _everywhere._"

"That means he's awesome. Like me," said Prussia. It was true. Gilbird was popular and famous (among fans), and that meant he was awesome. Although that also had a lot to do with the fact that Gilbird was friends with The Great Prussia.

Hungary gave Prussia a friendly sock in the arm. "Of course you say that. But _i_ think you just really like his fan works." An evil grin spread across her face. Prussia didn't like the looks of that. His uneasiness was proven sound when Hungary followed up that comment with: "You know, I think you like his _USUK_ fan art." A scandalized look appeared on Gilbert's face.

"I _do not!_" He said, indignation coloring his voice. "I just think that it's cool that Gilbird can draw. And write."

"Mm-hmm," Hungary said, a mock-dubious look on her face.

"Really, Hungary?! I told you, that's it!" By now, Elizaveta was nodding her head up and down in a very exaggerated motion. This, of course, really ticked off Prussia.

"Hungary, shut up!"

"But I wasn't talking, Prussia! I was nodding my head like this," and she proceeded to nod her head in that annoying way that grated on Prussia's nerves.

"That is it, Hungary! This is the awesome me, leaving!" On that happy note, Gilbert stormed from the room. He refused to allow himself to be taunted by Hungary any longer. Fuming, he shut himself in him room. And pouted. He didn't leave his room for the next several hours, and it was a good long time before he realized just how much like old times it had been, arguing with Hungary like that. After that, he stayed in his room out of sadness rather than anger, thinking about what it had been like before his country had dissolved. Before he had been reduced to… this.

* * *

Austria was playing the piano when Hungary came in. Although he was tempted to turn around and ask her what she was there for, he refrained. Perhaps she only wanted to listen to the music. However, he knew that it was only a convenient excuse to play the piece until the end. He hated being interrupted.

As his fingers ran over the keys nimbly, as though with minds of their own, he contemplated the possible reasons for Hungary's presence. It was true that they had not conversed seriously for some time, and that he also greatly enjoyed her company, but ever since Prussia had moved in, she had spent an increasingly long amount of time with him. It didn't really bother Austria, except that he could often hear that accursed music blasting from Prussia's room. If Hungary didn't encourage his obnoxious behavior so much by being his "blog and glog buddy," Prussia probably would have left a while ago. As it was, Roderich had to put up with the incessant loud-mouthedness from the albino nation (though technically Prussia had been dissolved, they still called him a nation). Like his life wasn't difficult enough to handle, now he had to babysit for an overgrown 14-year-old! Tch. As if he had time for that.

Sighing inwardly, Austria tried to focus on the melody he was playing. The music calmed him, and he found himself relaxing, although he had not previously known that he was tense. He finished the beautiful sonata and just sat there for a second, allowing the moment to drag itself out until he was satisfied.

Slowly, he stood up and turned to face Hungary, who had apparently been waiting patiently in the doorway the entire time.

"So. Elizaveta. What are you here for? If you came to hear me play the piano, I'm done now."

"Oh! Well that's perfect, Mr. Austria. I was just waiting to have a talk with you."

"Really? What about?"

"Well, you see, I received these letters from Mr. Germany, and I wanted to give you yours." Hungary crossed the room and handed Roderich a thick cream-colored envelope with scripty handwriting on the front. It was addressed to him. Austria realized that his letter opener was in another room, so he left the piano room, turning several corners before finally reaching his study. He headed over to his desk and opened the topmost drawer on the right. A black letter opener was in the drawer, nestled in velvet colored cloth. Taking up the letter opener, Roderich slit open the envelope and removed the letter contained inside it. A quick scan of the contents told him all he needed to know.

"So, Mr. Austria, are we going to go?" Austria started slightly at the voice-she had followed him?!-but other than that, retained his cool composure. "Yes, Hungary, I suppose we should. After all, it would be rude to reject an invitation like this. Also, there are indeed some... erm... _matters_ that the nations should probably discuss."

"Oh, look at you, Austria! Always the gentleman!" Hungary said, smiling. Roderich turned to address her properly, without having his back turned to her.

"Well, why wouldn't I be?" Hungary simply shrugged in reply.

"This social gathering will be in only a week and five days. What short notice! He should have started planning sooner…"

Without any sort of indication, Roderich had switched gears and was now muttering to himself as he put away the letter opener, carefully settling it back into its drawer and closing it (the drawer) slowly. Picking up his letter, Austria swept out of the room.

He was going to Instant Message Germany immediately. Judging by the lateness of the letter (they were _neighbors_ but Christ's sake!) this little event needed somebody with better planning skills to help sort out the specifics of the gathering. Austria felt he was just the one for the job.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the tardiness was all Gilbird's fault, The yellow bird had brought home the letters several weeks prior. It had taken him some time to finally sow Hungary the aforementioned notes. And that's how Gilbird lost his job (just kidding, he didn't actually lose his job).

* * *

**Well, that's it for chapter 5! I think I'm somewhat kicking the dead horse what with all of these references to their pasts and past events, etc. So tell me what you think!**

**Oh, about that whole Gilbird thing, don't ask-it's just a little head canon of mine. I swear, if there're any Yellow-Messenger-Bird s out there, I didn't mean you. It's just… Gilbird is a yellow bird, and Prussia uses him as a letter carrier. Fandoms: just don't ask, really. You don't want to know.**

**Next chapter will be about Japan and China. But hold tight, cause I'm going to need to do some research for it (again, don't ask). I will get back to serious matters there. I look forward to being able to finish the next chapter as much as you look forward to reading the next chapter (I hope so, I mean, you ****_do_**** like reading my fics, right?).**

**See you all in the next chapter!**


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